


Sick Days

by suitsflash (bikeross)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, happy birthday fox, harvey is sick, mike takes care of harvey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikeross/pseuds/suitsflash
Summary: When Harvey "I Don't Get Sick" Specter gets sick, what's a Mike to do?





	Sick Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoxVII](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/gifts).



> This is a happy happy birthday to one of my dearest and most wonderful friends. I love you so much. 
> 
> Amar bhishon bhalo bondhu ar bon, Fox (FoxVII), ami tomake khub bhalobashi! HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

It starts with a simple sneeze. 

Mike’s sitting at the counter on his laptop, reading through some briefs when he hears it. It’s followed by the unmistakable trumpet-like sound of Harvey blowing his nose.

He thinks nothing of it until he hears the second sneeze.

And then a third.  
  
It’s not until he hears hacking coughs that Mike actually leaps up and goes to the master bathroom, leaning on the door before he knocks. “Um. Babe? You okay?” He asks, frowning.

Not hearing an answer, Mike opens the door. His expression falls as he takes a look at his boyfriend. Harvey’s nose is red and his eyes are bloodshot. 

“Harvey, you’re sick.” He takes a slight step back, not wanting to experience the lovely petri dish of germs that he’s sure the bathroom is. He makes a mental note to go down to Duane Reade and pick up a face mask, gloves, and nine thousand Lysol sprays to disinfect the apartment.  
  
Harvey, however, is having none of it. “Mike, I’b fide!” he says before a well timed round of coughs directly contradicts that.

To Mike, he’s _anything_ but fine. Obviously. But Harvey “I don’t get sick _ever_ ” Specter is about as stubborn as they come. Holding his own arms out like a zombie, Mike grasps Harvey’s upper arms to guide him out of the bathroom and into their bed.

“What the fuck Mike, I told you I’b fide.” Harvey’s voice cracks before he coughs--right onto Mike.  
  
His eyes close and Mike lifts his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, a headache beginning to form in the center of his brain. A Harvey induced headache. He releases a breath. “You know how I would actually believe that? If you were able to get out that sentence without covering me in plague.”  
  
Harvey’s expression stills and he purses his lips. “Must be allergies,” he comments. He plants his feet on the ground. Refusing to be manhandled into bed.

Mike closes his eyes and places a hand over Harvey’s forehead. Of course Harvey is burning up. “Right, because all allergies come with a fever. Come on, let’s get you into bed, I’ll take care of you." 

Harvey’s eyes narrow before he climbs into bed, settling under the covers. “Stob looking so pleased with y’rself.” He narrows his eyes before pulling the covers over his chest. “An--if this means you’re not gonna dress up in a sexy nurse’s outfit--i don’ wanna.”

Mike doesn’t care if he looks obviously smug, his chest puffed up with pride. He’s won against the best closer in the city. “We can negotiate the nurse’s outfit.” He leans down and presses his lips to Harvey’s forehead.

“Try to get some sleep, I’m gonna run down to Duane Reade and grab some meds.”

“Mmmmm,” Harvey says, his eyes drifting closed.

An hour later, Mike returns, his coat dusted over with snow. His eyes narrow when he spots Harvey sitting on the couch, laptop on the table as he looks over some of Mike’s briefs.

Mike lets the door go so that it makes a resounding slam in the doorway. “Harvey!” He exclaims, eyebrows drawn together as he stomps over to the couch. He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

Harvey looks up at him, nose red from constantly blowing his nose. “I told you I’m fine,” he says, happy that he can once again speak properly. He nods as if his word is evidence enough. And it all may have worked if his forehead didn’t glisten with the sweat of a fever.

Mike sits next to him and pulls the thermometer out of his bag, unpackages the device, and hands it to Harvey. “If it’s 98.6 or lower, then I’ll let you work.”

All the response he gets is a grumble from Harvey as he swipes the thermometer from Mike’s hand and sticks it under his tongue.

A few seconds later, Mike pulls the thermometer out after it beeps and the screen reads 101.6.

“It’s broken,” grouses Harvey.

Mike turns his head and gives him an even look. “Bed.”

The resulting groan he gets from Harvey is almost enough to put a smile on his face. Almost.

Harvey grumbles all the way to the bedroom, Mike following closely at his heels.

“You know, you don’t exactly have to hover.” The statement is followed by Harvey placing his hand against the wall and doubling over with coughs.

Mike immediately goes to brace him. “Harvey, that’s what people in relationships do, they take care of each other,” he says, offering Harvey a sympathetic smile. He reaches up to cup his cheek before leaning forward to press a kiss on his forehead.

All he receives in response is a grumble. And Mike understands. Harvey revels in taking care of _him._ Their roles are seldom, if ever, reversed. And when it’s Mike’s turn to call the shots--Harvey tends to get petty. And if Mike didn’t find it absolutely adorable and a testament to how much the man loves him, that one or two days he can’t spoil Mike with love and attention, completely sends his mood into a downward spiral.  

“You’re welcome,” Mike says before he lifts up the covers so that Harvey can crawl into bed. “Now I’m gonna call Fanelli’s and order a gallon of soup. And then I’ll work on the Roth contracts. You stay here. Is there anything else you need?”

“The Wilkerson briefs.”

“Non-work related.”

Harvey groans. “You’re saying I can’t work now either? Urgh. Bossy nurse.” 

“Tell you what,” Mike says, crawling into the bed next to him. “You listen to me for the rest of the night, and I’ll work in here.”

In response, Harvey burrows farther into bed, pulling the covers over himself.

Mike smirks before he delivers the kicker, “...And then tomorrow--as long as we both get a long and restful Sunday, I’ll see about getting a sexy nurse’s outfit next weekend.”

The covers slowly move downwards and Harvey’s eyes are focused on Mike’s body--sharp, definitely interested. “Does that include a sponge bath?” Harvey asks.

It’s with a fond eye-roll that Mike responds. “Yes dear,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of Harvey’s mouth. “Love you.” He smiles and stands up, going to the door before he feels a pillow hit his back. He turns and fixes Harvey with a puppy like pout.

“I love you too Mike,” Harvey says, smiling and letting his eyes drift closed.

Mike crouches down to pick up the pillow, tucking it under his arm and leaving so he can gather some things and keep his boyfriend company.

He pauses as he returns, smiling as he looks at Harvey’s sleeping form. Mike wonders how the hell he got lucky enough to experience this--but he’s not going to question it. As long as he has this--Harvey in his life. He’s gonna hold on with everything he has.


End file.
